


Ten Minutes Ago (I Met You)

by elrhiarhodan



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: A Little Touch of Cinderella's Prince Kit, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Competent Eggsy, Diplomatic Problems Solved By Romance, Emotionally Insecure Eggsy, Happily Ever After, Kingsman-Bodyguard Fusion, M/M, Past Tilwin, Richard Madden Fancast As Prince Sebastian, Romance, assassination attempt, political machinations, royal au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-07-23 19:07:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20013334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/pseuds/elrhiarhodan
Summary: Walking home from the tailor shop, Eggsy is about to start a very well-earned vacation when he hears the sound of a high-powered rifle.  Eggsy being who he is, runs towards the danger and finds a diplomatic motorcade under attack from a roof-top sniper.  He saves the day, and more importantly, the two royals who had been the shooter's target.Prince Sebastian Clarack, heir to the throne of his tiny North Sea island kingdom, finds himself obsessed with the man who'd saved his life.  The man he only knows as Galahad is strong and beautiful and Sebastian finds he wants to know everything about him.  It's a pity his Uncle Christie, who works with Galahad, as well as the stern Harry Hart, who's been his mother's tailor for as long as Sebastian can remember, and just happens to be Galahad's boss, won't tell him a damn thing about the man.Spies, after all, need to keep their identities a secret.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anarchycox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/gifts).



> Story Inspired by a post on Tumblr (which I've since lost track of), featuring Richard Madden as Prince Kit from _Cinderella_ , and Harry and Eggsy at the end of _Kingsman: The Golden Circle_ , in the church at Eggsy's wedding. 
> 
> This is a recreation:
> 
> Continuing the Cinderella connection, the title is from the classic Rogers and Hammerstein musical version of the story:
> 
> _Ten minutes ago I saw you_  
>  _I looked up when you came through the door._  
>  _My head started reeling,_  
>  _You gave me the feeling_  
>  _The room had no ceiling or floor._  
>  _Ten minutes ago I met you_  
>  _And we murmured our how-do-you-do's._  
>  _I wanted to ring out the bells_  
>  _And fling out my arms_  
>  _And sing out the news._

Sebastian tries not to roll his eyes when the Assistant Foreign Secretary makes the same point for the eighth time. His mother reaches under the table and pinches him, so apparently his attempts to control his facial expressions haven't succeeded. 

Queen Davina smiles at the functionary and murmurs for him to continue. Sebastian admires his mother's aplomb, especially in the face of such tedium. But then, she's had decades of experience with dealing with assholes like these Englishmen. Also, an education that had included vigorous training in such social niceties as being polite to fucking assholes and not comparing foreign dignitaries to her favorite sheep.

His mother had tried to instill the importance of such training in her only child, but while Sebastian understands the necessity, he doesn't actually understand how to put it into practice. He tries, but he fails. And yet his mother still loves him, she still believes he'll be the greatest king in this history of their Isles, and that he'll be able to overcome every challenge.

Just that it will be so much easier if he thought before he spoke.

"Your Highness, may I ask what is your opinion of the proposal?" The Assistant Foreign Secretary looks at him with eyes that would be attractive on a sea lamprey, not a human being. 

Sebastian knows he can't tell the man that, so he indulges in some wordplay. "You can certainly ask." While the Assistant Foreign Secretary gapes like a sea lamprey looking to latch onto an unwitting victim, Sebastian flips through the portfolio in front of him and picks a few points to comment on. "Basically, it's shit. All of the benefits accrue to the United Kingdom, while my country bears the cost, environmentally and fiscally. Contrary to the assertions on page three, paragraph four, the long term impact of this plan has been studied, I believe that my aides sent you copies of the last series of reports from the fifty-year study the Royal Institute been conducting on the environmental cost of the submarine base since it began operating in 1967." Sebastian puts hard emphasis on that date, letting his anger show. "That you've failed to comprehend the impact is a shame." Sebastian ignores his mother's nails digging into his thigh, he's not going to be quiet about something so important. "Or perhaps you have chosen to misinterpret and ignore the findings. Britain might be a past master on destabilizing governments in all four hemispheres for the goal of looting the natural resources of independent nations. But you are not going to do it to the Kingdom of the Clarack Isles. We have a treaty and we have international law on our side. The days of Britain marching over local rights in their custom made leather boots and bespoke suits is over." 

The room is dead quiet. Queen Davina stops trying to stop Sebastian. He'll find out just how angry she is when then head back to Buckingham Palace after this meeting.

"Your Majesty, Your Highness, about that treaty…" For the first time, the British Foreign Secretary addresses them directly.

If Sebastian had thought the Assistant had an unappealingly fishy look about him - and Sebastian likes fish since he's spent enough time studying them - the actual Secretary looks like a eel that's been out of the swamp for too many hours.

"What about the treaty?" Sebastian knows he really should keep his mouth shut, but the treaty that the man is talking about is the pillar of the relationship between the kingdoms. It might be over three hundred and fifty years old, but it's a clear and simple document and despite the change of time and tide and fortune, hasn't needed amendment or revision since Sebastian's many-times great grandfather signed it and the British Houses of Parliament ratified it. 

The Secretary looks oddly triumphant, as if he's been waiting for just this moment. "The Treaty of Inverness is coming to a natural end - not right now, but within a generation."

"What, pray tell, do you mean?" Queen Davina's tone is cold enough to make the North Sea feel like bathwater. 

"The terms are clear, Your Majesty. Unless there is direct, legitimate succession when His Highness takes the throne, your little kingdom will become the part of the United Kingdom and your nation will cease to exist. In fact, this proposal - " The Secretary gestures to the bound document in front of him, "will become moot when you pass on. The British military will take possession and evict your gaggle of sheep farmers and fisherman, and do what we want with the Isles. Just as we did with Saint Kilda."

Sebastian can feel his mother vibrating with rage. But Sebastian isn't angry, he's amused. "Ye really do like playing the cartoon villain, Secretary Howell. But don't ye know it's never a good idea to reveal yer plans like this? And besides, there are already two direct heirs to the throne, my daughters."

"I mean no insult, Prince Sebastian, but since they were born to you out of wedlock, they are not legitimate heirs."

Sebastian, who had studied the Treaty of Inverness since he was thirteen and knows every word of it, verbatim, is quick to correct the Foreign Secretary. "Firstly, the Treaty does not say 'legitimate', it says 'heirs of the body', which has always meant children or grandchildren in the bloodline, and not necessarily children produced in a marriage. It is also a term used to exclude adopted children and step-children." When he moves to the next point, Sebastian can't help but feel a bit of anger, his daughters are more than just pawns. But he has to make it clear that his family is in compliance with the ancient treaty's terms. "Secondly, my daughters have been recognized by the Throne as the second and third in line, and that succession has be ratified by my nation's Parliament. And finally, Her Most Serene Majesty is in excellent health, it will be many years before I will inherit. If Great Britain wishes to preemptively challenge the succession of power of a free and independent nation, I can solve the problem by marrying and producing more children."

Secretary Howell doesn't seem particularly disturbed by this threat. "You do what you think is best, but you will not stop the inevitable. Children can die of so many things - a bad cold, a bite from an insect, peanut butter. The days of your little nation are numbered, I suggest you reconcile yourself to that."

Sebastian is shaking with rage, and for the first time in his life, he sees his mother lose control, and he figures, if there ever was a time for that, now would be it.

"I cannot believe that you dare to threaten us, threaten my grandchildren."

The Foreign Secretary smiles like a asp. "What you believe or don't believe is of little interest."

"I'd expect this kind of behavior from the orange-skinned moron in America, but you are the representative of a civilized nation." Queen Davina stands, as does Sebastian. 

He'd managed to hold his tongue when his daughters had been threatened, but this latest outrage can't pass without comment. "Of all the things that have occurred in this room in the last half hour, this is probably the least important, but when royalty stands, even foreign royalty, everyone gets to their fucking feet." Sebastian would punch Howell and the assistant - except that would reduce him to their level.

His mother's bodyguard opens the door and they leave, heads high. The corridors clear as the Clarack Isles contingent make their way to the exit.

When they get into the car, Queen Davina with barely contained anger, instructs Callie, her secretary, to inform their royal hosts that they will not be returning to the palace, but will be leaving London immediately. Callie understands what this will entail and puts the wheels in motion. 

As the car - with its tail and lead vehicle - speed through the London streets towards London City Airport, Sebastian is quiet as rethinks his behavior and can't see how any of this isn't his fault.

"Mother, I'm sorry."

"For what, darling?"

"For goading those turds."

"Sebastian, they had this all planned, right down to the final outrage. There's something else at play - they wanted us to stalk out in high dudgeon."

"Then why are we playing along?"

"Because we're Clarack Islanders and we don't let the fucking English walk all over us."

Sebastian is about to comment that this is the first time in his life he's heard his mother swear, but they are thrown to the floor as the car slams in to the leading vehicle. Sebastian covers his mother as glass explodes around them. It's gunfire - someone is shooting at them and all of the training their security team insisted they learn and practice falls into place as Sebastian and his mother throw themselves to the floor, below the window line, and Sebastian struggles to pull a bullet proof shield over them.

* * *

Eggsy's just off of a three month undercover assignment in Western Canada, which might sound like a milk run, but the northern end of the Northwest Territories isn't exactly civilization. The small mining town he'd been sent had been straight out of his worst nightmare, with a population more interested in alcohol and too-readily available drugs. He'd been sent there to intercept and impersonate a former London street rat turned arms dealer who had been trying to get into strategic metals smuggling.

It had taken time and every ounce of Eggsy's patience and ingenuity, but the mission had been an unqualified success. The debrief had taken a week before Merlin and Arthur pronounce themselves satisfied and give Eggsy a full month of down time before he has to report back to HQ, barring an emergency. 

Eggsy plans to do nothing more than spend time with his mum and not-so-baby sister and reacquainting himself with the pleasures of civilized society. Namely, getting himself laid as frequently as possible. After the disaster with Tilde, it's taken him a while to get to this point, and nothing nor no one is going to stop him from enjoying some consequence-free pleasure. 

When he emerges from the shop and steps onto Savile Row, Eggsy waves off the waiting cab. It's too nice and he's missed London too much to enjoy the pleasures of a ride home. As always, Eggsy takes a circuitous route from Savile Row to his Russell Square neighborhood to foil anyone who might be tracking him. Eight years a spy and paranoia has become as second nature as his bespoke suits, high-tech eyewear, and brogue-less Oxfords. Also, London in early spring is gorgeous and the only ice and mud in the city can be found in the penguin exhibit at the Royal Zoo. 

Eggsy has several routes he likes to take tome, and the one he uses this evening avoids the chaos of the shopping mecca on Regent's Street and the hell otherwise known as Piccadilly Circus. It's probably the longest way home, but Eggsy heads towards Westminster and the river, taking the side streets instead of the crowded thoroughfare, with a vague plan to stroll along the Victoria Embankment until sunset.

He's on a side street not too far from Whitehall when he hears the unmistakeable sound of a high powered rifle and the crash of a car. The sounds echo off the granite and marble buildings and Eggsy pauses, waits to hear a second shot and gets his bearings, running - hopefully - towards the action. Squealing breaks follow the sound of the third and fourth shot, another car crashes and then the shots just keep coming. 

Eggsy turns the corner and sees automotive and human carnage. Two long Mercedes bookend a Bentley that seems to be the target. Five bodies litter the street, each with their heads blown off. Eggsy has to assume that the actual targets are in the center car - the one with flags on the front hood.

_Dignitaries._

He puts on his glasses and opens a channel to Merlin. 

"We have a situation."

"I know - I'm seeing police reports of an attack of some sort. Sounds of gun fire near Whitehall."

"I'm right there - someone is on a rooftop, shooting down at a small diplomatic convoy. Looks like drivers and security personnel are dead, hopefully the principals are staying hunkered down." More shots ring out and finally there are sirens responding.

"Can ye see where the shots are coming from?" 

Eggsy is hidden behind a planter, hopefully out of the gunman's line of sight. He gives Merlin the name of the street, "I was hoping you could pull up which buildings would be the most likely perches."

More shots, and now it seems that the gunman is trying to break through the roof of the Bentley.

"Hurry up, Merlin."

"All right, I got it." He gives Eggsy the address. "Stick close to the walls, as far from the cars as you can, but if you can get me a look at the license plate, I can figure out who's the target. Whoever's doing this has the street cameras down."

Eggsy follows Merlin's instructions to a T, hoping that the shooter doesn't have a spotter with him, that he's singularly focused on his target. As he's passing the three wrecked cars, he makes sure he gets a good look at the license plate and the flags on the Bentley and heads into the building. The front desk is empty, hopefully everyone is cowering in a security closet somewhere. He finds the fire door; it's locked so Eggsy uses his Kingsman ring to short-circuit the lock. 

"Merlin, how many flights?"

"Twenty, Galahad. And hurry." 

Eggsy absently notes the unfamiliar tone in Merlin's voice; as if he is personally in peril, but now is not the time to question it. He saves his energy for the stairs. All things being equal, twenty flights isn't a hardship, and he is as fit as he'd been as a newly minted agent, but twenty flights on a step trainer isn't the same as twenty flights in an office building with poured concrete steps. 

"You hacked in to the building systems yet, Merlin?"

"Aye. Roof door is unlocked, but be careful."

Eggsy doesn't dignify that with an answer. Careful doesn't get the job done. 

Merlin has one more instruction. "We want the shooter alive, if possible."

That puts a wrinkle in Eggsy's game plan. He'd intended on taking a stealth approach and pitching the shooter off the roof. He's done that before, with great success. But alive doesn't mean unharmed. 

Eggsy pulls out his gun, goes through the door, and sees the shooter in his perch. There's no spotter, which makes Eggsy's job infinitely simpler. One bullet in the ass and the gunman goes down like a sack of shit.

Eggsy approaches and Merlin gives him another unnecessary instruction. "Don't let him bite down, this is political and he might have a suicide capsule."

"I've done this before, Merlin. A few times. Kingman will have to spot me another tie."

Eggsy rolls the gunman over and why is he not surprised. "Fuck me."

Charlie Hesketh groans and writhes in pain. "You! You fucking shot me in the ass."

"Well, what did you expect? I could have blown your head off like you did to those poor bastards on the street." Eggsy pulls off his tie, shoves in between Charlie's teeth like a horse bridle and tie it tight behind the bastard's head. "You're a paid assassin now? How the mighty have fallen." 

Since Kingsman are actually better prepared than the Boy Scouts, Eggsy takes out a zip tie from a compartment in his shoulder rig and binds Charlie's hands. Since he's too big to carry, he has to leave Charlie's feet free, but Eggsy does take the bastard's shoes off.

Charlie doesn't make things easy, of course, and Eggsy takes great pleasure zapping him with his ring, and there's just enough juice left to make Charlie wee himself. "You really ought to have been control of yourself, Chuckles."

"Stop chatting with dead meat, Galahad, and get him down to the street. Arthur and Lancelot are already on their way. Whatever you do, do not turn that twunt over to anyone, he's ours."

Eggsy pulls Charlie to his feet, ignores his whining, and drags him across the roof and through the door. Elevator access is a half-flight down and even half-insensate, Charlie makes it as difficult as possible. "You don't cooperate, I'm going to shoot you in your other ass cheek."

Charlie groans and manages to bump into Eggsy with his pee-soaked pants. Eggsy has dealt with worse and drags Charlie into the elevator Merlin sent up to their level. He pushes Charlie into one corner, keeps his gun on him and sends the car down to the lobby.

He pushes past the Feds and the uniforms, keeping a tight grip on the limping Charlie and ignoring demands for identification. Merlin feeds him a steady stream of information, identities of the men and women trying to take control, and Eggsy simply tells the highest ranking officer in his way to move. "Chief Superintendent Clarke, you have your brief and I have mine. Now get out of my way before I pull rank and have you sent to John O'Groats to look for whisky bottles with counterfeit revenue seals."

That gets the woman to step aside long enough for Lancelot to arrive. She doesn't seem surprised to see Charlie with Eggsy's tie in his mouth - Merlin must have briefed her. Lancelot takes Charlie's other side, the one with the bullet wound, and she does something that makes Charlie groan. 

"We have a vehicle waiting."

Even after five years as a Kingman, Eggsy is still awed by the resources Merlin is able to deploy. There's a van bearing all of the proper markings for the Metropolitan Police Force in front of the building, but marked or not, it belongs to Kingsman. Percival and Gawain are standing by, waiting to take charge of the prisoner.

Once handed off, Lancelot gets behind the wheel and vehicle pulls out, sirens screaming, to deliver Charlie to a beta site for interrogation. 

Eggsy looks around, noting the plethora of state vehicles, and the cluster of high-ranking military surrounding the bullet-riddled Bentley, and they are all deferring to Arthur, who is ignoring them. He escorts an older woman and a young man - about Eggsy's own age - to his own car, which is _not_ a Kingsman cab. Eggsy wonders who these VIPs are, because they aren't ordinary diplomats.

Arthur catches Eggsy's gaze and gestures for him to come over. Eggsy approaches and puts on the mask of a deferential subordinate. "Sir?"

Arthur gestures to vehicle's passengers. "This is Her Most Serene Majesty, Queen Davina of the Clarack Isles, and her son and heir, Prince Sebastian." Arthur introduces Eggsy as "Galahad, my most trusted subordinate."

Eggsy bows to the precise and perfect degree. "Your Majesty, Your Highness."

Arthur tells him, "They will need secure passage."

"I understand." Eggsy knows what Arthur means - get them to the shop, then to the bullet train. For some reason, after looking at the two shell-shocked royals, Eggsy feels compelled to add, "I will protect them with my life."

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Sebastian isn't sure why he and his mother are getting into a complete stranger's car, but perhaps the one-eye'd gentleman isn't a complete stranger. His mother seems to know him and is willing to defer to him, rather than to the British military and police who seem to want to take charge.

There isn't a divider between the driver and the passenger section, and while the man behind the wheel is someone they are supposed to trust with their lives, Sebastian isn't willing to let him overhear any conversation with his mother. Strangers, particularly _British_ strangers aren't going to be trusted like that.

Except his mother squeezes Sebastian's hand and he looks at her; her face has crumpled, showing far too much grief. Then she whispers, "Callie".

Sebastian closes his eyes against the tide of grief. Callie, that brave and loyal girl, died. So did Rook, their driver, and Sholto and Milton and Brigit, the drivers and security in the other cars. He breaks courtesy and wraps his arm around his mother, holding her tightly. He says softly, "They will pay."

From the front, the driver, Galahad, speaks up. "We are going to be at our destination soon. It may seem strange, but I will be covering you with an umbrella. Others will be waiting with similar black umbrellas Please stay under them."

"Umbrellas? To keep out of camera eyes?" Sebastian couldn't care less about the paparazzi at this moment.

"That is only a side benefit - and we've disabled the street cameras, to keep you out of the eyes of CID and the various security agencies watching. But it's more for your physical protection; the umbrellas are made from bullet proof material and will protect you from small arms fire."

"Ah." Sebastian doesn't know what to feel at the moment. How has his life become so dangerous?

The car stops and Sebastian looks out the window, surprised at their destination. Why in the world have they been brought to Savile Row?

"Mother?"

The queen shakes her head. "It's all right, Sebastian, we are among friends."

As impatient as Sebastian is, his training is too engrained not to wait for the driver to get out and open the door. As promised, the man is holding up a large, black umbrella, protecting them from god knows what. As they step out - Sebastian first, and then his mother - Sebastian is surprised to see that the entrance to their destination is lined with men in suits holding up similar black umbrellas. As they walk underneath this bizarre honor guard, Sebastian gets a glimpse of gold lettering on a display window, it says "Kingsman".

Sebastian's familiar with the name and the business. They have been his family's tailors for generations, coming out to the Isles twice a year. Even his mother has suits tailored by Kingsman. Now that Sebastian thinks about it, he just might recognize the man in the eyepatch who'd taken charge back at the scene of the attack - although the last time he'd visited, more than half a decade ago, he hadn't had the eyepatch.

The inside of the shop is cool and quiet and free of customers. The men who'd covered them with umbrellas hover in the background, but the young man who'd driven them here directs Sebastian and his mother to a door with the numeral "1" on it. 

"This may seem a bit strange, but please continue to trust me."

His mother doesn't pause as she steps into what is clearly a spacious fitting room, and Sebastian has no choice but to follow. The driver murmurs, "excuse me", and steps between Sebastian and his mother to press his palm against the mirror. It briefly glows green and Sebastian can feel some type of mechanics engage. 

Since his mother doesn't question anything that's happening, Sebastian doesn't ask what's going on.

The descent is smooth but endless; Sebastian counts to a hundred before the platform comes to a stop. Galahad steps between Sebastian and his mother again and opens the door to what looks, rather unbelievably, like a train platform.

Galahad gestures to the waiting train car. "Please step inside." 

Sebastian feels like he'll explode if he doesn't ask any one of the hundred questions clamoring in his head, but since his mother hasn't blinked at any of oddities that have presented themselves since they'd arrived at a tailor shop, Sebastian keeps himself contained. He follows his mother into the train car, waits for her to take a seat, then sits next to her.

Galahad sits opposite them, and the doors shut. "The ride will take about thirty minutes."

Finally, Sebastian can't contain himself any longer. "Where are we going?"

Galahad has a slightly abstracted look for a brief moment, then says, "Kingsman headquarters, and from there, back to the Clarack Isles."

"Thank you." For the first time, his mother addresses the young man sitting opposite them. "We are most grateful for your assistance."

"Kingsman is only sorry it has been necessary."

His mother nods, the epitome of royal condescension, despite the situation.

The man - Galahad - sits across from them, legs crossed, hands resting on his knee. He seems to be looking out the window, but Sebastian can see that he's looking at them. For his part, Sebastian doesn't hide his curiosity. Galahad is very good looking, the personification of strength, but not in a physical sense - he lacks the bulk for that. No, this Galahad exudes intellectual and emotional strength like a plant releases oxygen - he makes Sebastian feel protected and safe, just sitting there, across from him and his mother.

Staring at Galahad, Sebastian begins to notice things: missing neckwear, the light sheen of dried perspiration on Galahad's temple, bloodstains on his right shirt cuff, fresh scuffs on the tops of his polished Oxfords. All of these details leads Sebastian to one inevitable conclusion. 

"You were the one who stopped the gunman, weren't you?"

Galahad looks startled, and for some reason, that pleases Sebastian - like when he'd been a child and caught out a tutor's lie. But Galahad doesn't protest or stammer, he nods and confirms. "I'd been at the right place at the right time, Your Highness. I heard the gunfire and then your cars crashing, and did what needed to be done."

Sebastian finds this almost incomprehensible, running directly into danger like that. "You didn't wait for backup?"

"No, there wasn't time. The gunman was using a very high caliber rifle, and while your car's roof had been reinforced, it wouldn't hold up indefinitely against a repeated assault."

"You could have been killed." 

Galahad smiles when he says, "It's what I've been trained for, Your Highness. But if I many ask, how did you figure it out?"

"Little things." Sebastian casually lists what he'd noticed.

"I am impressed at your powers of observation, Your Highness." Galahad smiles.

That smile is more that just politeness and despite everything that's just happened, Sebastian finds himself intrigued by this man and he wants to know more about him, about what he does, and why he does it. But the train pulls out of the darkness onto another platform.

Galahad says, almost unnecessarily, "We've arrived." He gets up and steps out when the door opens. 

Sebastian stands and offers a hand to his mother. She looks unutterably weary, and extremely determined, but when she goes to Galahad, her expression is pure and regal. "Once again, we thank you for your bravery, and we hope our paths will cross again."

Galahad bows, "It was my honor, Your Majesty."

There are people waiting on the platform, including one very familiar face. _Uncle Christie?_

His mother goes right to the man who has been a fixture in Sebastian's life for as long as he can remember, and in a stunningly public display of weakness, wraps her arms around her half-brother. 

"Davina, we need to get you back to the Isles as soon as possible. Word of the attack has already spread, and the council is in chaos. The jet is fueled and ready to go."

"Thank you, Christie. You'll pilot?"

"I wouldn't allow anyone else to take you home." Uncle Christie looks over to Sebastian. "Are ye all right, lad?"

"Yes, thanks to Galahad." Sebastian shoots a grateful look to his rescuer. "We would have been killed if he hadn't been there. We own him our lives."

Galahad actually blushes, but before he can say anything, Christie clears his throat. "Ye'll need to be debriefed, Galahad. The Morrigan is waiting for ye."

To Sebastian's dismay, Galahad gives them a bow and leaves out a backwards glance, and Christie directs them out of this very strange train station. Towards something even stranger, a hallway overlooking a vast aircraft hanger.

"I suppose ye have a million questions, lad."

"Aye, I do. Primarily, what are ye doing here?" Sebastian lets his accent slip, he doesn't have the energy or the desire to sound like a fucking Sassenach anymore. 

His mother answers, "Christie is the quartermaster here - he runs this place."

"Well, more like the power behind the throne." His uncle leads them towards another elevator. "The man you met in London, at the scene of the attack, is the leader."

"He used to be our tailor - I think his name is Harry? But everyone called him Arthur."

Christie points them towards a jet, and says, "Your mother can explain everything, I need to get us in the air." 

Sebastian keep a rein on his curiosity until they are buckled in and the jet pulls out of the hanger. He's about to ask his mother the first of a million questions when his phone vibrates and lets out a three quick chirps. Sebastian doesn't recognize the alert sound and pulls it from his breast pocket.

The screen reads "Maximum Recording Time Exceeded" and Sebastian catches his breath. He'd completely forgotten he'd set his phone to record the meeting with the Foreign Secretary. Which means that everything the man and his crony said, every threat that had been made, even the attack on their motorcade, had been recorded.

"Mother - " He shows the phone to her. "I think the game has changed completely."

* * *

Eggsy always finds the Morrigan's debriefings exhausting and is grateful that he only has to work with her on situations where visual memory is critical. She has a way of eliciting memories of things that usually get lost in the bigger picture, finding details that might otherwise be forgotten. 

Eggsy sweats through the debrief, answering her questions, digging through his memories, describing how the bodies of the drivers and security team were laying, the distance between the cars in the motorcade, the position of the royals' Bentley. Eggsy doesn't know if any of this matters, but that's not his job; data analysis will pull everything together and come up with theories and conclusions.

Four hours later, the Morrigan lets him go, with the provision that he might be recalled to supplement the report. Eggsy does what he always does after one of these sessions, he heads up to see Harry.

Although it's late, Harry's admin, Elaine, is still at her desk. "Is Arthur in?"

She nods, "He just got back about a half-hour ago. He's actually asked for you, didn't the Morrigan tell you to report here?"

"No, she didn't. I don't think she'd gotten the message - we just finished - " Eggsy checks his watch, "seven minutes ago. I came here directly."

"Ah, all right. Then head on in."

Harry looks about exhausted as Eggsy feels. "That bad?"

Harry just rubs his forehead and nods. 

Eggsy heads over to the sideboard and pours them both a measure of whisky, then hands one of the glasses to Harry, who empties it before Eggsy can even a sip of his own. When he offers his own glass to Harry, Harry grimaces and shakes his head. "As much as I'd like to finish the who damn decanter, I'm going to need a clear head for what's about to come."

"Has the interrogation team cracked Charlie?" Eggsy still can't get over that his nemesis from the Lancelot trials had been the shooter.

"Let's just say his performance in the Loyalty Test hadn't been a fluke. He cracked like an egg against the pavement, but he doesn't know who paid him. He's been working freelance since he was pulled out of Valentine's lair, and he rarely knows who hires him. He gets a package, fifty percent of his fee up front, and the rest when the target is dead. He gave us twelve unsolved political assassinations, mostly in North Africa and South Asia, but he couldn't tell us who purchased his skills."

"And you believe him?"

Harry shrugs. "Unfortunately, yes. Charlie provided routing numbers and all of the payments came from one of three numbered accounts based in Lichtenstein."

Eggsy understands Harry's frustration. Unlike the Swiss, banks in Lichtenstein still allow anonymous, numbered accounts. "So, a dead end?"

"Not really."

Eggsy wonders why Harry is still so glum. "So what's the problem?"

"Before you came down with Charlie, I had a very brief conversation with Queen Davina and Prince Sebastian. They'd been at a meeting with the Foreign Secretary and the Assistant Foreign Secretary for Defense Matters. Britain currently has a submarine base on the Clarack Isles, and the Foreign Secretary has proposed expanding it, trebling the size. Her Majesty had declined the proposal and the Foreign Secretary made a number of threats."

"Threats?" 

Harry gives Eggsy a brief history lesson. "The 1746 Treaty of Inverness guarantees the independence of the Kingdom of the Clarack Isles, but the Kingdom itself is a military protectorate; it's politically independent, but it relies on the United Kingdom for its defense. In exchange, the Kingdom provides reasonable accommodations for the British navy - like the submarine base. However, the independence of the Kingdom rests upon the continuity of the ruling family. If there is no direct heir, Britain can exercise its rights under that treaty and take control of the Isles. That is what that Foreign Secretary threatened Queen Davina with. Her heir, Sebastian, is gay and has made it clear that he will not marry a woman. He has, however, produced twin girls via IVF. Her Majesty has recognized the legitimacy of the offspring and they have been named second and third in line for the throne."

"And don't tell me, the Foreign Secretary made noise about not recognizing the claims of heirs born outside of wedlock."

"It's worse than that, Eggsy. He actually made covert threats against the girls' lives. That was when the Queen and Prince left the meeting and planned to return home, instead of going back to Buckingham Palace for the planned state dinner. They had been heading towards City Airport, where their jet is, when their motorcade had been ambushed."

Eggsy sees the pieces fall into place. "So, it had been a set up, get them out and into harm's way."

Harry nods, sighing wearily.

"But nothing can been proven, right? Ain't like the Foreign Secretary's going to admit to insulting a head of state. And why wasn't the queen meeting with the Prime Minister? Ain't that a breach of protocol?"

"Under normal circumstances, yes, and I'm not clear why the Queen had met with the Foreign Secretary. But more to the point, they can prove what happened. Prince Sebastian had recorded the conversation."

Eggsy absorbs that extraordinary bit of news and begins to see the ramifications. "The government is toast, isn't it, unless someone can convince Her Serene Majesty not to play that recording. Though if it were me, nothing would convince me to keep quiet about it."

"The jet has a satellite hookup and she'd reached out to the BBC en route home. Her Majesty has already broadcast salient portions of the conversation. Secretary Howell has been arrested, as as Assistant Secretary Clay. Both parties have called for the resignation of the Prime Minister and the entire cabinet. An emergency session of the United Nations has been called, for the express purpose of censuring the United Kingdom."

Eggsy doesn't know what to say. 

"It's going to get worse. The French are making noises about recalling their diplomatic staff, and if that happens, the rest of the EU will follow. And I don't think the Commonwealth will fall into line, either." Harry gets up and refills his glass; he lifts the bottle and looks at Eggsy, "Need a refresh?"

Eggsy has barely sipped what he'd poured for himself. "Nah, I'm good."

Harry sits back down and buries his face in his hands, "I don't know what to do."

"Is this really our problem? I mean, Kingsman doesn't get involved in the workings of the British government, right? That's not in our brief?"

Harry shrugs, "Ultimately, no, it's not. We can't stay independent if we insert ourselves so deeply in national politics. We saved the day - _you_ saved the day, Eggsy. That the world is still going to burn down around our ears because you did just what you were supposed to do is a problem of almost insurmountable proportions."

"Then we ride it out, we put out the fires that we can, give help where we can, but we can't stop what's already happened. This ain't like Valentine and his world-ending crap, you know. And I'm thinking that if a high ranking member of the government plotted to assassinate a reigning monarch and her heir, and threatened the heirs down the line, then the fallout that's about to happen is not a bad thing. A chance to clean house."

"When did you get so wise, Eggsy?" Harry smiles at him. "And I am so very proud of you - you are such a credit to Kingsman."

Eggsy feels himself blushing. Harry doesn't often hold back on the praise, but it's usually in the vein of a "well done, Galahad," not something quite so personal. "I usually think what you'd do in a situation. I wouldn't want to ever let down the name or the man who'd held it before me."

Now it's Harry's turn to flush.

Eggsy remembers something, "Elaine said you'd sent for me. Is there another problem?"

"No, just wanted to check in with you. I presume you wore your glasses and they were recording on the ride from the shop to HQ."

"Yeah, and Merlin had been listening in."

"Ah, of course he would be. I just figured it would be easier to talk to you instead of pulling up your feed." 

Eggsy is kind of surprised at that. Harry is never shy about checking in on Eggsy's feed - or any of the other agents. "What do you want to know?"

"I was wondering if Queen Davina said something to you about Kingsman."

"Not really, but it's clear that she knows what Kingsman is, but her son doesn't. And he's a smart one, he figured out that I was the one who took out the shooter."

"Prince Sebastian is very smart - a huge IQ. Not unlike you, my boy."

Eggsy smiles at Harry's deliberate reminder of their first adult meeting. "I guess he had the ultimate silver suppository, being a prince and all that."

Harry had been about to swallow the last of his whisky and instead almost chokes. Eggsy gets him a glass of water.

"You are really rather evil."

Eggsy smirks. "Sorry."

"No, I don't believe you are." Harry then pulls the conversation back to the topic at hand. "Kingsman has been supporting the Clarack Isles since the beginning, and there has always been a high-ranking member of the agency that comes from the Isles. Not always an agent, but usually one. Merlin's been our connection to the Isles since Bors IV passed away in '92."

Eggsy nods, "Yeah, Merlin did seems rather close with the queen. She hugged him and called him 'Christie'. And Prince Sebastian seemed to know him, too - although he'd been surprised to see him here."

"Merlin and Queen Davina are half-siblings - they share a mother. Merlin had been about six when his mother and the King of the Isles married. He could have stayed and been one of her majesty's principal counsellors, but he'd wanted to see the world and ended up at Cambridge in the mid-80s. It had been inevitable that Kingsman recruited him."

"As an agent or as a tech?"

"He had been given a choice, and turned down the chance to become an agent. He just might have become Galahad if he'd chosen differently."

Eggsy finds that incomprehensible, but if Merlin had been part of the same training cohort as Harry, who knows what would have happened. "Glad he's the quartermaster, instead."

"Probably wouldn't have gotten himself shot in the head." Harry smiles wryly.

Eggsy laughs but in deference to his friendship with Harry and just how much he respects him, he doesn't agree. At least verbally. 

"So, it's just a waiting game, now?"

Harry nods. "Unfortunately, yes. And I don't like waiting."

Harry - and the rest of Great Britain - doesn't have long to wait. Within a week, the Prime Minister and her entire government resigns; Britain's diplomatic corps are ejected from a dozen allied nations; trade agreements are rescinded; companies doing business with major British industries pull out of contract talks; the value of the British pound drops precipitously; and the Queen herself - the Queen of Great Britain, Wales and Northern Ireland - takes to the air to offer her most humble apology to her fellow monarch and the people of the Clarack Isles.

Queen Davina does not respond. Instead, she issues an order expelling all British citizens resident in the Kingdom, requests diplomatic proposals from all of the Scandinavian nations for protectorate status, and orders the seizure of the British submarine base.

Eggsy keeps close watch on the political situation and Harry feeds him all kinds of information that comes his way via Merlin. Harry's anxious to go north and try to be the voice of reason, something that Eggsy finds infinitely amusing. What's not funny is how badly the situation is escalating. Clarack Islanders have begun pelting British service personnel with mud and garbage, and a group of more radical residents tried to storm the submarine base, but that is where the queen drew the line, persuading her people to be patient and give the murdering Sassenachs a chance to withdraw peacefully. In the same news conference, she also had said that that any member of the British Armed Services found outside the base will be arrested and held without bail. 

Merlin is gone a full week before he returns home, and when he comes back, Harry immediately departs for Airésaig, the capital of the Kingdom, and that's when things get interesting.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

Sebastian groans and looks at the clock on his night table. It's three AM, the perfect time to wake up with a raging hard-on and the remnants of a sex dream about a thoroughly unobtainable man.

He's thirty-two years old and it's downright embarrassing, but he's not going to fall back to sleep with the rock-hard boner in his sleep pants and his brain full of a man he only knows from his code name, "Galahad". Sebastian heads to the bathroom and turns on the shower; a fistful of waterproof lube and a replay of his favorite fantasy - Galahad forcing Sebastian to suck his cock - gets him off almost too quickly.

Sebastian gets out of the shower, dries off, and goes back to bed, but sleep is elusive. There are too many problems bouncing around his brain, and yet what keeps him awake is the perfect mathematic ratio of Galahad's chin and jaw and cheekbones. The proportion of Galahad's waist to the breadth of his shoulders. The soft fall of hair across his deep forehead. The hazel-green eyes.

Sebastian is obsessed and there's not a damn thing he can do about it. He'd tried pumping his uncle for information, but Christie kept reminding Sebastian that Galahad is a spy and his identity must remain a secret. Sebastian had argued that he'd tell no one - and that Christie has to obey a royal command. His uncle just laughed, not unkindly, and said no, he wasn't going to tell Sebastian anything, not even under threat of exile.

He'd even approached the man called Arthur, the head of the spy agency situated in a bespoke tailor shop. His real name is Harry Hart, and he's actually Viscount Hart, a title that goes back to the Doomsday Book, which predates the foundation of Sebastian's own country by several centuries. Lord Hart has become his mother's close confidante during the last few weeks and Sebastian had approached the man, asking him if he could share just the barest details about the spy who had saved their lives. But like his uncle, Lord Hart had demurred, reminding Sebastian that a spy has to remain anonymous to be effective. Sebastian hadn't let the subject go, telling Hart that he - Sebastian - knew how to keep his mouth shut, and after all, who would he tell? It's not like he has a multitude of friends and companions to blab to.

Hart had just smiled and shook his head, reiterating that he has an obligation to keep Galahad's identity secret.

Sebastian had stalked away, angry and frustrated. He feels like he's twelve again, barely able to keep control over his temper. And worse, it seems like everyone - well, his uncle and this spy-tailor - are treating him like he's still an ungovernable child, when he's thirty-two years old and has been a public voice for his nation around the world.

He falls back to sleep sometime before dawn, and when his alarm goes off an hour later, Sebastian stumbles back to the shower, this time for the sole purpose of waking up. He spends the first hour of the day with his girls as they have their breakfast, then joins his mother. 

"You don't look well, my dear," Davina says as she scrapes a bare knife's worth of marmalade across a piece of toast.

"Having some trouble sleeping. I keep thinking about what had happened in London."

"That doesn't surprise me. I find I can't stop thinking about what might have happened, too. How close we came to death." His mother reaches out and puts her hand on top of Sebastian's, squeezing gently.

But Sebastian can't lie to his mother, even by omission. "That's not what I think about, mother."

"Oh?" The queen's tone is sharp with curiosity.

"I keep thinking about the man who rescued us. Who charged into that building and took down the shooter. I've never met anyone who is that brave and I'm - " Sebastian doesn't want to use the word "obsessed", although that's what he is. 

Davina doesn't cut him any slack. "You're what, darling?"

"Interested in him, I can't wrap my head around what he did. What kind of person is able to do that? Just go into a situation where he - or she - could be killed, and save the day. No back-up, no teammates to cover you. Just - " Sebastian shakes his head, "reckless bravery."

Davina smiles. "I think your interest in the young man is more than academic, my son."

Sebastian shrugs. "Perhaps."

"That young man is rather splendidly handsome."

 _Splendidly handsome_ is the perfect description, although his mother isn't usually so over the top. Sebastian can't deny the truth. "He is."

"Christie mentioned that you'd asked about Galahad. As did Harry."

"All they'd say is that Galahad's a spy and they can't divulge anything about him. As if I'd say anything to anyone!" Sebastian doesn't bother to conceal his outrage at the implied slight, or his frustration at having his interest stymied.

"What if I talked to Lord Hart, explained your interest? I can't guarantee that he'll give you anything useful, but I can assure him that your discretion is absolute."

Sebastian nods and toys with the food on his plate; he doesn't think that Hart will give into his mother's request and he's going to be let down. 

Several hours later, following an exhausting meeting with the Danish ambassador, Lord Hart finds Sebastian in one of the gardens restricted to use by the royal family. It's Sebastian's private retreat, a place he uses to regroup after a hard day. He'd claimed it when he was a teenager, after his father's sudden passing. It's a wild place, filled with plants designed to attract butterflies.

He's watching a pair of orange and black butterflies lay eggs over a patch of purple thistles when he hears footsteps on the gravel. For a moment, Sebastian's heart starts racing. Guards don't usually accompany him into the gardens, but he calms down when he sees who his visitor is.

And Lord Hart doesn't seem much interesting in Sebastian - he's dropped to one knee to exam the egg-layers. When he looks up at Sebastian, he smiles and Sebastian is struck by how young and carefree the man looks.

"Pearl-bordered Fritillaries. I've never seen ones in the wild."

"You know about butterflies?"

"I once thought to make a study of them, to become a lepidopterist. Life had other uses for me, however."

"To become a spy? A tailor?"

"Yes." Hart gestures to the space on the bench. "May I sit, Your Highness."

Sebastian nods. "Please, be my guest." 

Lord Hart sits, but he doesn't say anything. He is still distracted by the butterflies - or seems that way. Sebastian tries to school himself to patience, but patience has never really been his strong suit. He's always favored plain speaking rather than verbal gamesmanship, at least amongst allies.

Finally, Lord Hart speaks. "I had an interesting conversation with Her Majesty a little while ago."

Sebastian is at a loss. "About what?"

"Your interest in my agent, in Galahad."

"Oh." _Oh._

"You have to understand just how important an undercover agent's identity is, how much time and effort goes into building a persona that can withstand even the deepest scrutiny. You are, right now, in the limelight - no matter that you won't step off of North Clarack until the Isles' security can be assured. But there are people here who will take notice of you and your doings and make them public."

Sebastian frowns, he's not unaware of the paparazzi who've taken up residence in Airésaig, hoping for pictures of him and his mother. The locals are protective of their queen and her heir, doing their best to foil the foreigners, but Sebastian knows that it's likely that some intrepid reporter will breach security. It's happened at Buckingham Palace, it could happen here.

"I just want to know about the man who saved my life, my mother's life. I'm not interested in dating him."

"You're not?"

Now Sebastian flushes. "I don't date straight men, no matter how beautiful they are."

"Galahad is bisexual."

Sebastian freezes. That's one bit of information he desperately didn't want to know - not if he ever wants to sleep again. "Is that the only thing you're willing to tell me?" _To torment me with?_

Lord Hart gives him an indecipherable look. "I'm still trying to figure out why you are so desperate for information. Vulgar curiosity isn't going to cut it."

"I can't stop thinking about him, he haunts my days."

"And your nights?"

"You go too far, Lord Hart." Sebastian gets to his feet, hands curled into fists. He's never physically struck out at anyone, but Sebastian thinks he just might punch Harry Fucking Hart in the face.

Of course, Lord Hart gets to his feet, he's too well-bred to stay seated when royalty stands. He's also a good half a foot taller than Sebastian, and despite his age, looks to be a man who can both take and give a punch.

"My apologies, Your Highness, I meant no insult. Galahad is very dear to me."

"You love him?" Sebastian now thinks he understands the man's reluctance to share any information.

Hart smiles sadly. "He is the son I'll never have. He is my protégé at the agency, and I take great personal pride in his achievements. He is also a very unique individual, rising above the circumstances of his childhood to become the best amongst all of Kingsman. He is not fodder for your amusement, Prince Sebastian. He's already been hurt by a royal and I would see the world burn to ash before I let him suffer like that again."

"I wouldn't hurt him." Sebastian then realizes what Hart has just revealed. "What do you mean, hurt by another royal?"

"You remember what happened five years ago? When Valentine's cell phone chips incited a global massacre?"

Sebastian nods. His mother had forbidden the distribution of the "free" mobile service on the Isles, but some visitors had phones with those chips and had committed mayhem when the signal reached Airésaig. No one had died, but several dozen islanders and visitors had been badly hurt.

"Galahad had been the one to stop Valentine, and in the process, had rescued Crown Princess Tilde of Sweden."

"I went to her wedding last summer." Sebastian says, apropos of nothing.

"Before she married Prince Nicolaus of Greece, Princess Tilde and Galahad had dated for over a year. Galahad had even considered proposing, but she had ended the relationship, claiming that she needed to marry her social equal. Not a spy raised in a London housing council estate."

Sebastian processes what Lord Hart has just revealed. "If she felt that way, why did they date? Why did she use him like that?"

"He'd rescued her, she looked to him as her savior. I think the princess had a lot of trouble coping with what had happened, but when she'd recovered, she realized that the relationship would be a mistake. Instead of talking about it, she walked out on Galahad and wrecked him for a good long while."

"I wouldn't do that."

"No?"

"What do you want from Galahad? To be friends? Companions?" Hart pauses, then asks, "Lovers?"

Sebastian wants to get outraged again, but he now understands why Lord Hart is being so protective. "I don't know."

"Could you see yourself married to him?"

Sebastian's brain goes right _there_ , the ancient cathedral in the heart of Airésaig, where he stands before the altar, watching the man he's only met once, the man whose real name Sebastian doesn't even know, walking up the aisle towards him, and it all feels so viscerally _right_.

"Yes, I can."

"Even though he doesn't have a noble lineage?"

"My grandmother had worked in the wool houses before she married my grandfather. My royal grandfather's mother had been a military nurse. Half of my family tree are working class civilians. The Claracks don't care about such things."

A red and gold butterfly passes by and Lord Hart tracks it with his remaining eye as it lands on a dandelion. "Then I suggest that you leave your calendar open for the next few days."

"Lord Hart, what are you saying?"

"When I spoke to Galahad the evening after the incident, he told me that he thought you were smart. He'd been impressed that you had pulled together the pieces to figure out that he'd been the one to take the gunman down, and I don't think you'll have to struggle to figure out what I mean."

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

Merlin apologizes for pulling Eggsy out of his well-earned downtime, but Eggsy is quick to tell Merlin that he doesn't mind. His plans for spending time with his mum and sister had gone awry when Michelle casually informed her son that she'd rented a holiday cottage on Angelesy in Wales for the month. Of course, Eggsy would be welcome to join them, but he declines with a smile - things are too fraught to be so far out of London, and frankly, his relationship with is mother isn't that good that he'd want to spend that much time alone with her in some isolated beach town on the coast. He will miss seeing his sister, but Daisy at nine is an independent sort and prefers her own company to spending time with a brother who has become a stranger in her life. 

So, getting recalled for a mission only means Eggsy will be missing out on the oodles of attachment-free sex he'd been hoping to have. But it must be a testament to his oath as a Kingsman that he finds himself more interested in the new assignment than sex. He'll have to tell that to Roxy, she'll probably have some insight into that.

Since Merlin had said that the new op wasn't critical, Eggsy arrives at Merlin's lair exactly ten minutes late; it's a deliberate thing, a way to wind up his friend without causing any real damage.

Unlike a visit to Harry's office, Eggsy knows better than to ask if he could take a seat. He sits in the chair at the opposite side of Merlin's console and waits. Of course, Merlin doesn't say a word for the exact amount of time Eggsy had been late by.

"How would ye like to go to the Clarack Isles."

Eggsy grins. "Harry needs backup?" He likes when he has to back Harry up - there's always maximum potential for chaos and explosions.

"Not exactly. It seems that ye've made a rather strong impression on His Highness, Prince Sebastian."

"Your nephew." The words pop out of Eggsy's mouth before he can think.

"Aye, my nephew. And he's a good lad."

"Seems brighter than the average royal." Eggsy can't keep the sourness out of his voice. Which isn't fair, because Tilde hadn't been stupid, only cruel. Or perhaps realistic.

"Sebastian has his quirks, tends to get hyper-focused on things that catch his interest. Which can be a bit awkward sometimes."

Eggsy wonders what this has to do with his mission. "What's he interested in now?" Eggsy can't imagine how he can help, it's not like some jumped-up chav from a London housing estate could have anything in common with a crown prince.

Merlin looks at him over the rim of his glasses and says, "You."

"Excuse me?" Eggsy things his misunderstood. 

"Ye heard me, lad. Sebastian seems to have developed an all-consuming interest in the man who saved his life. When I was in Airésaig, he kept asking me about ye. And I think it made it worse when I wouldn't tell him anything. Sebastian might be a prince, but yer still a spy and we don't go around sharing personal information about our agents."

"You could have lied, given him one of my covers." Eggsy's still a bit shocked that Prince Sebastian is this interested in him. What would a prince want with _him_?

"I could have, but I don't like lying - especially to family."

"So you've given him my bio, and he's still interested?" Eggsy doesn't know what to feel; he's still recovering from Tilde.

"Harry did, actually. He wasn't going to, but Davina approached him, suggested that this might be a way to find some detente between Great Britain and the Clarack Isles."

Eggsy nods. This is something he can understand. He can meet with the prince, be polite, answer questions, talk up the glories of England and the long relationship between their nations. And if necessary, with the right covers in place, he'll even do a few photo ops with Prince Charming. The one that had gone out to the press when he'd been dating Tilde would be useful here - officer in the Royal Marines, decorated hero. It would play nicely with the press.

"Eggsy, lad, what are ye thinking?"

Eggsy smiles and shakes his head. "This is familiar territory - not so different from being Tilde's arm candy. At least your nephew won't want to peg me within minutes of meeting me." Eggsy shudders delicately. 

Merlin makes a rather strangled noise in the back of his throat. "Sebastian's gay. Rather militantly so. Which is why his daughters were conceived _in vitro_. He refused to marry a woman just for the sake of an heir." 

"Ah, yes. Harry did mention that. And sorry for oversharing. About the pegging."

Merlin nods his acceptance of Eggsy's apology.

"When do you want me to leave?"

"I'll be flying ye up to Airésaig tomorrow. Pack for a formal cover, and for casual as well. Sebastian will probably want to show ye every inch of that godforsaken island."

"I'll remember to bring the bug spray."

"Good thinking, lad."

Merlin touches down a little after noon, just three hours after taking off from Herefordshire. The flight is easy in clear summer skies, but the final approach is a bit rocky, and Merlin asks Eggsy to co-pilot as he navigates past a squadron of RAF jets patrolling just outside of Clarack airspace.

"Do I want to know how you managed to evade some of the most sophisticated radar detection systems on the planet? Is this plane equipped with something better, or are you really a wizard?"

Merlin just smiles and gets on the radio to request fuel and clearance for the return trip.

Harry's waiting for him in what passes for an airport on Airésaig; it's little more than a large hanger with a customs and immigration desk that they walk past without stopping. Harry doesn't say anything until they reach his car, a beautifully restored classic Jaguar XK-120 in British racing green, with royal plates. "This is Merlin's, he worked on it when he was a teenager. Please don't tell him I've borrowed it."

"Never grassed on anyone, not going to start now."

The palace is surprisingly modest, or maybe not so surprisingly. According to the research Eggsy had done since the attack, the two main islands have a population of twenty-thousand people - which is about the same as the number of residents that had lived in the housing estate where Eggsy had grown up. Most of the population works in the fishing and sheep farming industries, and while there's a strong social support structure, no one is particularly wealthy. An ostentatious palace would be out of place here.

But that doesn't mean there aren't the amenities that are appropriate to a royal residence - a uniformed footman to take Eggsy's luggage, another to escort Eggsy to his room. 

Harry tells him that they'll meet with Her Majesty in an hour.

The hour gives Eggsy just enough time to shower, shave and put on a more formal suit and tie. His oxfords are polished and lethal, although he's not expecting any opportunity to use them. Protocol demands that he leave his more obviously lethal accoutrements packed away, since one does not go into the company of royalty armed. 

Harry, and not a footman, is waiting outside his door exactly fifty-two minutes later, and escorts him through the palace. "Her Majesty wants to talk with you privately before you meet with Prince Sebastian. I hope that won't be a problem."

"No, of course note. Any words of advice, Arthur?" Since Eggsy's viewing this as a mission, he uses Harry's title.

"Be yourself, Eggsy." Harry's use of his real name in this situation is startling, even more that the instructions. He's a spy, and that means he always has to be someone else.

Queen Davina is waiting for them in a simply decorated receiving room overlooking a garden.

"Welcome to Airésaig, Galahad."

Eggsy bows, to the precise depth required for a reigning monarch. "Thank you for the invitation, Your Majesty."

The queen gestures for Eggsy to join her at the window and cuts right to the chase. "Do you know the origin of the Treaty of Inverness?"

Eggsy's delighted to get a chance to show off the results of his research. "Yes, ma'am. After the massacre at Culloden, the Pretender, Charles Stuart, sought refuge on the Clarack Isles. He hoped to gather the population to his banner and launch another attack against English rule in Scotland. Your ancestor, King David the Second, ordered the Isle's small navy to blockade the port and deny him safe harbor. The Kingdom of the Clarack Isles was formally recognized as a separate and independent nation by the British crown as a reward for refusing to give the Pretender sanctuary."

Queen Davina nods, "My ancestor had been roundly cursed by the mainland Scots as a traitor to his people, but Clarack Islanders are not Scottish. The treaty has worked to the benefit of my people for over two hundred fifty years, and I've never had cause to regret my nation's alliance with England - Great Britain - until the attack. I came so very close to repudiating it, telling the world that I regretted King David's decision to bar the Pretender from the Isles."

Eggsy sucks in a sharp breath, understanding just what that would mean."I don't believe the attack was orchestrated by the Government, ma'am."

The queen sighs. "You are likely correct. And time has given me some perspective on the matter. Repudiating the treaty would have been a mistake, but there is still a diplomatic breach that can't easily be fixed."

Eggsy doesn't consider himself a diplomat - he's good with his fists and his guns and he tends to leave the talking to Lancelot. Queen Davina is looking at him with too much hope in her eyes, as if he could fix her nation's problems. "How can I help?"

"Lord Hart holds you in very high esteem."

Eggsy feels a blush warming his cheeks. "Lord Hart is very kind."

"He's shared a bit of your history with me."

"Ah." Eggsy doesn't know if this is a good or a bad thing.

"I admire your dedication to your family and your country, how you've built a life for yourself despite the adversities of your childhood."

"Thank you, ma'am. But I'm not sure how that helps you and your people."

"My son has expressed – how shall I put it – an interest in you. He has become intrigued by the man who saved his life and has been asking questions about you."

Eggsy nods, "Merlin had mentioned that. He'd suggested that my mission here could be seen as a kind of detente. That I spend some time with His Highness, answer his questions as best I can." Eggsy doesn't repeat the crude comparison he'd made to Merlin about his first meeting with Princess Tilde. For all he knows, lèse-majesté might still be a crime in the Isles.

"Thank you, Galahad." The queen then makes a face. "What is your real name, I can't keep using that silly title."

"Gary, ma'am, but everyone calls me Eggsy. Hope that's not too silly, either."

Her Majesty smiles. "No, not at all."

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

_Today is the day._

Sebastian feels like his life is finally coming to a point, which is utterly ridiculous. He has been his monarch's chief diplomat for more than half a decade, he has a doctorate in environmental science, and he's the father of two beautiful girls. His life has had a very defined point since the moment of his birth - he will be King of the Clarack Isles, steward of the land, protector of the sea, and the voice of his people throughout the world. 

But despite his birthright, despite all of his accomplishments, all the work he's done, Sebastian feels like nothing as mattered until now.

Galahad is here, in Airésaig, for the express purpose of meeting him. Sebastian feels overwhelmed by the thought.

He's chosen to wait in the formal garden, by the small reflecting pond with an array of granite swans spouting water. It's one of the only extravagant features of the royal palace - a gift from a grateful French duke who'd found shelter on the Isles during the Terror.

Sebastian's bodyguards are just a few paces away, although if Galahad is a well-trained spy (and of course he is), he could probably kill Sebastian before the guards realized their prince was in danger.

The sound of hard soled shoes on the gravel path tells Sebastian that he's no longer alone and he turns to face the newcomer.

It is Galahad, looking perfect and polished and far better than Sebastian's memory.

"Welcome to the Clarack Isles, and to Airésaig."

Galahad smiles and executes a perfect court bow. "I am honored by your invitation."

Sebastian feels as buoyant as a child's balloon, that he'll float alway on the breeze of his happiness. "No need to be so formal, Galahad."

Galahad ducks his head and Sebastian's is charmed by the man's awkwardness. "Please call me Eggsy - Galahad is my code name."

Sebastian is even more charmed by the gift of a name. "Thank you, I know how important your cover is. And Eggsy is an unusual name."

"It's a nickname, actually. My real name is Gary, but I never use it." Eggsy makes a face. "My da used to call me his little egg when I was a baby - I must have been bald or something. And the name kind of stuck."

Sebastian is hungry to learn everything he can about this man. "Are you and your father close?"

"No, Your Highness. My da died when I was six or so. He was in the Marines, killed in a training exercise." Then Eggsy shakes his head. "Sorry - that's the story I give to strangers. My da had been a Kingsman recruit, one of the last two for a position as an agent. He died saving Harry's life. And your uncle's, too. Jumped on a grenade. Figure you deserve the truth."

That information is a punch in the gut. His uncle would have died if not for this man's father. "So, the House of Clarack owes you much, more than can ever be repaid."

Eggsy shakes his head. "Don't talk about repayment and debts. We do what we have to."

"Very well. But will you do one thing for me?"

"If I can, Your Highness."

"Stop calling me that. I would like to be friends with you, but that won't happen if you keep forcing distance between us. Please, I beg you, call me Sebastian."

Eggsy nods and does the most democratic of gestures, he holds out his hand and says, "Please to meet you, Sebastian Clarack, I'm Eggsy Unwin."

Sebastian takes Eggsy's hand, "The pleasure is mine." They've been standing in the same spot and Sebastian does the only thing he can think of and asks, "Would you like to see the gardens? They are quite fine."

They spend the next few hours going from garden to garden, and while Sebastian knows that he must be boring Eggsy to tears with his info-dumping about native flora and fauna, Eggsy doesn't seem the least bit bored. He asks decent questions and even comments that Harry must love the butterflies in the wild garden.

"Yes, Lord Hart did mention that he loves butterflies, and had wanted to study them, once, but that his life took a different path. Was there anything you wanted to be, before you became a spy?"

Eggsy smiles, and Sebastian thinks there's a lot of sadness hidden in that expression. "I once had aspirations to become a gymnast. It didn't work out."

"What happened? Were you injured?" Sebastian knows little of an athlete's life, but he can't imagine how Eggsy could have suffered a career ending injury and still have been physically strong enough to become a spy.

"No. My mum remarried, and let's just say the man who became my stepdad was a right arsehole. Didn't like me doing anything 'nancy-pantsy' as he'd called it. So I dropped it."

"I'm sorry. Were you any good?"

"There was talk about the Olympics, but that doesn't mean anything. I got into free-running, do you know what that is?"

Sebastian isn't positive, but he remembers a scene from a movie, "Like in the opening of _Casino Royale_ , right? When Bond and that guy were bouncing all over the construction site?"

"Yeah, like that. Which is really useful when you're a spy - like Bond."

"You're better that James Bond."

That earns Sebastian a brilliant smile. "Oh?"

"You're real, Bond isn't." They turn and head back towards the palace and Sebastian asks, "Would you join me for dinner?"

Eggsy doesn't hesitate to accept the invitation. "Yes, that would be nice."

"Just so you know, I usually dine with my daughters. They are four."

"You want me to meet your kids?" Eggsy looks flabbergasted.

"Why not? Don't you like kids? My girls are really kind of awesome. Smart and funny and even if they aren't perfect angels, they won't send you running for the hills.

"My sister is nine, I'm pretty well accustomed to how little girls act. One minute you're all they want, the next minute, they don't want to know you." 

Sebastian definitely hears the pain in Eggsy's comment, but he doesn't press. "Right now, Gemma and Emily are still see me as their hero. They still laugh at my jokes."

"Lucky you." 

Inside, the palace is cool and dark after the bright summer sunshine. "Do you want to wash up, or will you come with me now."

"I'm good." 

Sebastian is all too conscious of the bodyguards trailing them, but Eggsy doesn't seem to care. He is calm and collected, perfectly at ease in this environment. Sebastian figures that a spy would need to be like a chameleon, comfortable everywhere, able to blend into the most diverse environments. Then he starts to wonder of all of this is an act, that Eggsy's just tolerating him because he's been told to give the weird head case of a prince some time of day.

"You don't have to dine with us, you know. You must be tired, and having dinner with three spoiled brats can't be your idea of fun."

"Three? And I thought you said you only had twin girls." Eggsy seems genuinely confused. "I'm not the least bit tired, by the way."

"Are you sure? You wouldn't rather dine with Lord Hart and my mother?"

"I can dine with Harry anytime I want, and as for having a meal with your mum, I'd rather not be eaten for supper, no insult intended."

"You sure?" Sebastian tries to seen past the facade. "I'm kind of a git - I tend to get wrapped up in my own enthusiasms. Or, I'm going to pepper you with all sorts of impertinent questions."

"It's okay, I don't mind." Eggsy does seem sincere. "I usually don't get to talk about my work, at least to civilians."

"Your mother doesn't know what you do?"

"Let's call it willful blindness. She likes to think I have a nice steady job that brings in a good paycheck and since we don't see each other every day, or every week, it's easy to keep up the pretense. And I wouldn't tell her, anyway. She doesn't need more nightmares."

"And of course, you can't talk to your friends about it."

"Not if I don't want them in harm's way. So yeah, talking to you is nice." Eggsy shrugs. "If you're regretting the dinner invite, that's cool. I wouldn't want to interfere with your time with your children."

"No! No, not at all." Sebastian feels like he's made a major blunder. "Their suite is just down the hall. I'll introduce you and if you want to bow out after meeting them, that's all right. And if you want to stay and eat with us, that will be great, too." 

Sebastian takes Eggsy into the family living quarters and introduces him to his girls. Gemma, normally the shyer of the pair, takes Eggsy's hand and brings him over to her collection of stuffed animals - stuffies, as she calls them - and tells Eggsy their names and origin stories. Emily doesn't seem particularly interested in Eggsy, except she just keeps glancing over at him as he listens to Gemma and asks her very important questions.

Emily, who is very protective of her older sister, seems satisfies that there's no danger from Eggsy, and tells her father about the day's lessons.

Dinner is pleasant and Sebastian is very proud of his girls. Their manners are perfect, Gemma, who has come out of her shell, holds court like the queen she'll one day be. Emily, also talks to Eggsy, and as the evening meal ends, Eggsy surprises the girls - and Sebastian - with a bit of street magic. 

It's not until the girls start to yawn that Sebastian summons their nurses and calls it a night.

Gemma protests, "But, Poppa, Eggsy hasn't pulled a coin from your ear!"

"Maybe tomorrow." Sebastian looks over at Eggsy and smiles ruefully. 

"Ah, but there's no need to wait, I think I see a bit of gold tucked in your Poppa's great big brain." Eggsy reaches out and snaps his fingers. "And yes, a Clarack six-pence! With a picture of your Poppa on it!" He hands the coin to Gemma, then leans over and snaps his fingers again, producing another coin, which he gives to Emily with a flourish.

"Princesses, I bid you good night and sweet dreams." Eggsy bows, a leg extended, as if he's a royal courtier in Versailles during the reign of Louis XIV.

The girls handed over to their nurses, Sebastian asks if Eggsy would like to join him for a more adult way to end a meal.

"Whisky?"

"Some of the Isles best single malt, put down during my great-grandfather's reign."

"I could go for that."

Sebastian takes Eggsy into his own quarters, to a dark-paneled library with a single Chesterfield sofa. He gestures to the couch before going over to the bar, "Don't stand on ceremony, make yourself comfortable."

"Ta. Mind if I loosen my tie?"

"Take off your shoes if you want." Sebastian pulls off his own neckwear and drapes his jacket over the back of a chair. He pours them both some whisky and sits down next to Eggsy, leaning back against the leather with a heartfelt sigh. "I'm glad you're here. It's been a good day."

Eggsy takes a sip of the whisky, but then puts the glass down.

"Not to your taste?"

Eggsy smiles and shakes his head. "It's very nice, some of the best I've tasted. But I have to ask you something."

"Of course! Ask me anything, nothing's off limits." Sebastian can't read anything into Eggsy's expression.

"Why am I here?"

Sebastian freezes. This is the one question he's feared. "I - " He bites his lip, not sure how to give an answer that won't send this fascinating man running back across the North Sea.

"Merlin and Harry told me you just kept asking about me, that you wanted to know more about the man who saved you and your mum."

"Yes, well. I - " Sebastian sees an out. "I've been curious about you - about what gives someone the courage to do what you did. To risk your life for a total stranger." He licks his lips. "And by curious, I mean obsessed. I know that makes me weird, right? Weirder than I already am."

"Not weird, not at all."

"You don't have to humor me. I've used my position to get what I want." Which isn't exactly true; his mother made the final push, but that's really not the point.

"And you want _me_?" 

"Aye. Yes. I can't stop thinking about you. And that is seriously weird, all right? Like the helpless girl who falls for the fireman that pulls her out of the burning building?"

Eggsy nods and seems to be okay with that. But then he shoves a knife in. "I like you, Sebastian. You're gorgeous and funny and sweet and smart, but I've dated royalty before. Her Majesty mentioned that a 'relationship' between her son and the man who'd save his life might be a way to heal the breach between your country and mine. I don't know if she had been speaking of your own intentions."

Sebastian is speechless. How dare his mother interfere like this.

Eggsy continues. "And if that's the case, I'm fine with that. I'm cool with being part of a public relations exercise. I just want to know that there's a 'best used by' date on what we do. That the parameters are clear, no unexpected expectations."

Sebastian blurts out without thinking, "You don't value yourself at all, do you?"

"I'm sorry?"

"How can you think you're only worth a 'public relations exercise'?" Sebastian is astonished.

But Eggsy smiles and now his expression is open and completely readable. "I've been there, Your Highness. I've been the hero who gets the princess - for a certain amount of time - and then quietly pushed aside when I've outlived my usefulness. I'm sure Harry's told you, in nicer words of course, that I'm just a chav from a London housing estate who got lucky one day."

Sebastian can't stand this, he can't bear to hear this brilliant and brave and beautiful man run himself down. He does the only thing he can think of. He pulls Eggsy into his arms and kisses him.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

Eggsy's surprised at himself, at how bitter he sounds. He shouldn't have even asked Prince Sebastian why he's here - it's obvious. The prince is grateful and curious and even if he isn't thinking along the same lines as his mother and looking for a way to smooth things over with the British government, he's not going to pass up a chance at a good public relations story.

Eggsy tells himself he doesn't mind. It's not something he hasn't done before, although his time with Tilde wasn't really very public. Kingsman had done a good job of keeping his face out of the papers and building a false narrative for him - retired Marine captain, decorated veteran, got swept up in Valentine's kidnapping spree, rescued himself and the princess in the chaos of the exploding head. It had worked for a time, and will work again.

But in his own head, Eggsy does mind. He would like just one relationship where he isn't something to be used to further the greater good. Maybe that's why he's a little too raw, too undiplomatic. Sebastian gets all flustered, which is kind of sweet, but it doesn't really help straighten things out inside Eggsy's head. So he blunders forward, yapping on about his time with Tilde - a bad, bad move - and then Sebastian does something utterly crazy.

He kisses Eggsy. 

Eggsy freezes for a moment, a heartbeat. It's been a long time since anyone's kissed him, and maybe never like this, with such raw desire. But when Eggsy kisses Sebastian back, that rawness gentles into something else, something finer and purer.

Eggsy doesn't think, he pushes Sebastian onto his back and climbs over him, taking charge, pouring himself into this perfect kiss. Sebastian clings to him, thrusting up against him and Eggsy just wants to take and take and take until the emptiness inside him is finally filled.

He feels Sebastian pulling at his clothes, trying to get to skin, and Eggsy sits up for a moment, planning on getting both of them naked.

"Wait - wait."

Eggsy freezes, thinking he's completely misinterpreted the situation. "I - uh - " An apology is forming when Sebastian gets up, then pulls Eggsy to his feet.

"Come on, bedroom is just through that door."

"Bedroom?" That sounds like a very good idea to Eggsy's sex-addled brain.

"Yeah, with a big bed. Can tell you from experience that this couch isn't a great place to spend the night."

Eggsy is bitten by a tiny jealous bug, but he squashes it. Sebastian's a grown man who's likely had plenty of lovers. He follows Sebastian through the door, and finds the promised bed. He stares at it, it's the biggest damn bed he's ever seen and might have stood there all night until Sebastian nudges him.

"You all right?"

Eggsy nods and finishes undressing. He doesn't care so much about his trousers, but his lethal footwear gets tucked under a chair. When Eggsy finally looks up, he finds Sebastian standing by the bed, wearing nothing more than a very impressive erection.

Eggsy grins and pushes Sebastian onto the bed. "I guess you want me."

"Very much." Sebastian runs his hands over Eggsy, pausing to trace the scars that decorate his body. "You've been hurt."

"It's all part of the job."

"I don't think I could do what you do." Sebastian looks at him with awe. "You throw yourself into danger, you could get killed."

"Been doing it for a while, love. I know what I'm doing and I've got good people backing me up." Eggsy would much rather be fucking Sebastian than having this conversation and kisses him. As a deflection technique it works very well, and Sebastian reacts so beautifully. He's sweet and giving, welcoming Eggsy to explore the delights of his body until things start to become overheated.

"Lube? Condoms?" 

"Night table drawer."

Eggsy reaches over and finds the essentials, plus some extremely intriguing toys. He pulls out a scarlet and gold butt plug with considerable and rather unearthly protuberances. "So, Bad Dragon delivers to the Isles. Good to know."

Sebastian laughs, just a touch embarrassed. "I'd like to see what's in _your_ goodie drawer."

"Maybe you will, some day." Eggsy leaves the toys behind and sits back on his heels. He looks at Sebastian, spread out on the acres of white cotton, and thinks he's never been with anyone so lovely and perfect. "What do you like?" Eggsy tugs a bit on the mass of curls that decorate Sebastian's torso. 

"Anything. Everything. Whatever you want is fine with me."

Eggsy's pretty sure that Sebastian doesn't mean all that 'everything' entails, but he's not going to press the issue. "Can I fuck you?"

"Isn't that why I'm on my back, waiting for you like a lassie on her wedding night?"

"A gentleman always makes sure his attentions are welcome."

Sebastian laughs so hard the mattress shakes. "Shut up and fuck me hard, ye poncy twat."

And Eggsy does just that, but he's still careful - at least to make certain that it's as good for Sebastian as it is for him. And it's very good for him.

Afterwards, after he's found the en suite and cleaned himself up and taken care of Sebastian, he dithers a bit. It would be so easy to climb back into that vast bed and let post-sex ennui take over. But Eggsy's learned the hard way to to presume.

"Why are ye standing there? Sebastian's crawled under the covers and he holds them open in invitation.

"Just making sure I'm welcome to spend the night."

"Get the fuck under the covers, Egg-boy. I want to be little-spooned."

Eggsy laughs at that. "What ever Your Highness desires."

The bed is warm, and the mattress pleasingly firm, and the pillows are plentiful enough that they don't have to share, but they do. Eggsy cradles Sebastian in his arms and thinks that it would be far too easy to become addicted to this. Going to sleep and waking up next to someone who knows the truth about him. But they aren't going to be forever, so Eggsy stores the sensation in his brain. This feeling will be something to pull out after his next honeypot, when he's feeling like he's coated in slime and will never get clean.

"Ye're thinking too loudly, luv. What's the matter?"

"You always go for full on Highland Scots after a sound fucking?"

"And ye do a marvelous job of deflecting, don't think I have na' noticed. Are ye going to tell me what's wrong?"

Eggsy doesn't want to lie, but he can't tell Sebastian the truth, either. But there's always a middle ground, and that's something he's always been good at finding. "Thinking how nice this is." He presses a warm kiss against Sebastian's shoulder. "Thinking how nice the memory will be, when I'm in the field - someplace far away - and I don't have anyone to hold onto in the middle of the night." Eggsy closes his eyes and winces. That came out as badly as the truth.

Sebastian rolls over, reaches across Eggsy and finds the switch for the bedside lamp. "Ye don't ever have to go. Ye could stay here, with me." He touches Eggsy's face, feather light, but it burns. 

"You don't know me. You have some image of who you think I am."

"I see a man who's good and kind, who's loyal."

Eggsy can't hold back a shiver. How can Sebastian know what those words mean to him.

"I see a man I could spend the rest of my life loving."

"Sebastian - " Eggsy shakes his head. He doesn't want this, he doesn't want to destroy the moment, the memory.

"Shh. I want to be honest with ye, Eggsy Unwin. Aye, I'd built up a picture of ye in my head, some kind of dynamic daredevil, always running into danger. But ye were kind, too. Ye had a good heart, and well, ye kind of liked me, despite everything." Sebastian buries his face in Eggsy's shoulder. "Gad, I sound like such a fucking git. Like the novels my mum reads that she thinks no one knows about."

"Queen Davina reads romance novels?"

Sebastian rolls off him, but stays within cuddle range. "Aye. Christie sends her his favorites. A big box comes every couple of months."

Eggsy doesn't think he's heard Sebastian correctly. "Merlin - my hard ass Quartermaster and your Uncle Christie - reads romance novels?"

Sebastian nods. "Please don't tell him I told ye."

Eggsy entertains a brief fantasy of blackmailing Merlin over his choice of reading material, but only for a moment. His mother likes those books too, and Eggsy used to sneak-read them when he was a teenager and things with Dean were at the worst. There had always been something comforting about the guaranteed happily every after, no matter how unrealistic the actually stories had been.

"Well, it's not like my own hobbies are out of the toxic masculinity handbook." 

"Oh?"

Eggsy laughs, this might be the strangest post-sex conversation he's ever had. "I knit."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Not really very good at it, but on the nights when I'm home and don't have to be out and about, I like to knit. It's soothing and productive at the same time. I make a lot of scarves. I'm really good at scarves. Not so great at anything else, to tell you the truth."

"Ye know…"

"I know, what?" Eggsy has no idea where this part of the conversation's going.

"The Clarack Isles are know for three things, the quality of their single-malt whisky, their very sustainable fishing practices, and the quality of their wool. The sheep on the South Isle produce some of the finest wool in the world. I could give ye the statistics on the price-per-bale of South Isle shearing versus the rest of the world, but that's not a conversation to be had after sex, not unless ye really need to sleep. But - " Sebastian bites his lip and makes a face.

"But, what?"

"I haven't put ye ta sleep yet?"  
"Nope, waiting with baited breath - whatever that means."

"Well, we have beautiful wool that's made into beautiful yarn. Not as well known as the Arans, have you, but definitely finer. Could take ye to a couple of the spinners and dyers, set ye up with some good stuff. Royal prerogative and all that."

Eggsy can't contain the burble of laughter. Sebastian sound so fucking proud of his people's sheep. "That would be very nice. Can I make you a scarf?"

"Aw, haud yer wheesht. I'm making ye a fine offer and yer teasing me?" Sebastian's grinning.

"I can't guarantee it'll be perfect, but you'll have bespoke neckwear for the winter. Might even try doing a cap."

"Will ye put a wee pompom on it?"

"For you, anything." Eggsy feels almost lightheaded with happiness, he's never had such a silly conversation in bed with anyone. But to his embarrassment, Eggsy lets out a jaw-cracking yawn. "Sorry."

"Keeping ye awake past yer bedtime?"

Eggsy cranes his head, looking for a clock, and to his surprise, sees the mauve-gold sky outside the window. "Out of curiosity, just how far are we from the Arctic Circle?"

"Sunrise is at three-thirty AM, do ye want me to pull the blackout curtains?"

Eggsy remembers his manners and tells Sebastian to stay put. He closes the heavy draperies on each of the windows and stumbles back to the bed. "Last chance to kick me out."

Sebastian grabs his wrist and tugs hard enough that Eggsy tumbles onto the mattress.

"Want ye here when I wake up. Already told ye that."

Eggsy can't think of a snappy comeback, and all he can say is, "I want to be here when I wake up, too."

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

The alarm goes off at five-thirty AM and Sebastian wants nothing more that to hit the snooze - or better yet, turn it off, and sleep until he's actually ready to wake. But there's something in the way of the nightstand.

Wait, not something. Someone.

Eggsy. Eggsy's still here, in bed with him and he's hogging the covers and hugging a pillow like Gemma with her favorite stuffie.

Sebastian winces. That's not the best comparison.

He rolls over and hops off the bed on the opposite side, scrambles around to the night table and turns off the alarm, and decides to use the bathroom now that he's awake. Unfortunately, by the time he's done and ready to get back into bed for some quality morning loving, Eggsy's awake and out of bed. 

"Morning, luv." Sebastian goes for casual and affectionate.

Eggsy smiles and returns at least part of the greeting. "Morning. Mind if I - " He gestures to the bathroom.

"No, of course not."

"Thanks."

"There are clean towels, if ye want to shower." Sebastian isn't wholly unfamiliar with morning after etiquette.

"Give me a couple and join me?" Eggsy sounds too hopeful for an invitation to be made out of politeness.

"That would be lovely, we're all about conservation here on the Isles."

That earns Sebastian a burble of delighted laughter. "Of course you are." Eggsy disappears behind a closed door and Sebastian goes around the room, opening the curtains and picking up their clothes. He puts Eggsy's shorts and vest and socks on a chair, but he does something utterly silly and puts on the man's button down. It doesn't quite fit - Eggsy's broader in the chest and shoulders than Sebastian, and a bit slimmer in the waist, but for a silly little moment, Sebastian enjoys the fantasy of wearing his lover's clothes. 

It's only when he hears the rush of water from the shower that he takes the shirt off and drapes it across the back of the chair before going to join Eggsy, who gives head almost a good as he rescues hapless royalty.

They're barely dry, but Sebastian tugs Eggsy back into bed. "We don't have to be anywhere until eight."

"What's at eight?"

"Breakfast with mum and my girls."

"Ah, and what time is it now?"

Sebastian doesn't bother checking the clock, the sun is up and well over the tree line. "About six-fifteen. My alarm is always set for five-thirty."

Eggsy groans, "Why?"

"I can get a lot of things done in the morning, so I can have brekkie with my girls. I can set the alarm for six thirty or later, for tomorrow. No need to rush to greet the day just because."

"No, it's all right. I usually get up early, too, when I'm home. Go for a run, get a workout in. Once the day gets busy, it's hard to find the time."

"We could go for a run together. Can show you the best parts of the Isles. Or at least the North Isle. We'll need a ferry to get to the South Isle, and they don't start running until seven AM."

"North Isle's fine." Eggsy's tone is a bit too serious.

"I'm being a git again, and yer laughing at me."

"This is your land, your people. It's good that you know everything about it. I bet that none of the Windsors know what time the trains start running in London."

Sebastian grabs his phone and sets an alarm for an hour. "There, we can snooze for a bit - I'm going to keep you on your feet all day, so you best rest up."

But Sebastian's plays go completely awry when he and Eggsy head to have breakfast with the girls and Gemma's nurse hand him a note.

Sebastian reads it and tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. 

"Problem?"

"Her Majesty wishes for us to break our fast with her, and with Lord Hart, without the children."

Eggsy makes a face, but he seems to understand what's going on. A royal summons is a royal summons and Sebastian has no choice. He gives his girls an apology and kisses, and promises to see them at the dinner hour.

"Do I have time to change? I think showing up in yesterday's shirt and tie is probably not the gentlemanly thing."

Sebastian wants to suggest that Eggsy change his underwear, too, but he's a bit too unnerved by his mother's request to make a quip like that. He waits outside Eggsy's room and is grateful that Eggsy doesn't take long. He comes out in another beautiful suit, his shirt is crisp, his tie done up in an unfamiliar knot. Sebastian wonders if Eggsy is being politically savvy, avoiding the ubiquitous Windsor knot out of respect.

"How do I look?"

"Like a dream." Sebastian leans in and gives Eggsy a quick kiss. 

His mother's note had requested them to join her in the Morning Room, which is on the other side of the palace, and Sebastian takes Eggsy's hand. When Eggsy looks startled, Sebastian holds up their hands and asks, "Is this a problem?"

"No, I just wasn't expecting it."

"I have yer right hand, should I switch?" Sebastian can feel the gun calluses on Eggsy's fingers and palm.

"I can shoot with both hands. And besides, I'm not armed - it's it a crime to carry a weapon in the presence of royalty?"

Sebastian shrugs. "Probably, but you don't have anything on you?"

Eggsy gives him conspiratorial smile. "Let's just say I can dispatch anyone who attacks you."

"With just yer pinky finger?"

"That's pushing it. Let's just say my ring finger."

Sebastian gives Eggsy's left hand a good look. It seems ordinary, as hands go, other than a gold signet ring. It must be a Kingsman thing, he's noticed something similar on Lord Hart's left hand, too.

Sebastian has the presence of mind to let go of Eggsy when they arrive at their destination. A footman opens the door to the Morning Room and his mother and Lord Hart are already seated. Lord Hart looks rather comfortable and Sebastian wonders just how close his mother has gotten with her noble spy-tailor. He's a little confused, he had gotten the impression that Lord Hart and his uncle are lovers, but perhaps, like Eggsy, he's bisexual. Or perhaps he's just seeing things that aren't really there and honestly, Sebastian doesn't want to think about his mother's sex life.

Of course, Lord Hart stands when Sebastian enters, but returns to his seat after Sebastian takes his. Eggsy sits between him and Lord Hart, which is all fine and good, but Sebastian doesn't like the looks the two men exchange. Lord Hart looks worried, Eggsy smiles and shakes his head.

Sebastian remembers the comment that Lord Hart had made before a few days before Eggsy arrived - as impossible as it seems, that was only yesterday - about how he'd burn to world down if Sebastian hurt Eggsy. Perhaps Hart is wondering about whether Eggsy is all right.

Sebastian settles on that as a good mental narrative. He likes the idea of someone looking out for Eggsy's well-being, even if that someone who repeatedly puts Eggsy into physical danger.

His mother sips her tea and tosses out the conversational gambit. "I hope my granddaughters hadn't been too upset at missing us at breakfast this morning."

"A little, although I think Gemma was a bit peeved that I couldn't leave Eggsy behind. She's taken quite a shine to him and had wanted to tell him about the newest chapter in her Boo and Fox saga." Gemma's imagination knows no bounds, and even at four, she's built a massive fantasy world populated by her stuffies and the wild creatures that still rome the Isles.

His mother nods, "Well, maybe she'll deign to share it with me. I thought I'd spend some time with the girls in the afternoon. Bathsheba's litter is old enough that the girls can play with them." The queen then explains to their guests, "My dog - Bathsheba - was a bit naughty a few months ago. Got caught by one of the kennel dogs. The pups are a funny looking bunch, half Corgi, half Dalmatian-whatnot. I suppose dear Elizabeth would be horrified to know that I let her birthday gift to me get The D from any old hound."

Eggsy covers a snort, Hart looks vaguely appalled, and all Sebastian can say is "Mum!" 

"Oh, don't be such a stick, Sebastian. We're amongst friends, no?"

"We are, but I've never heard ye make a filthy comment like that."

The queen shrugs elegantly. 

Eggsy, to Sebastian's surprise, asks a question of the queen. "Ma'am, you really don't mind that your purebred corgi has bred mongrels?"

"Frankly, I despise the idea of 'pure-bred' anything. Look what's happened to the Windsors - inbred, chinless wonders. If Charles had gotten his way and married Camilla, their children would have been congenital idiots - fit only for opening hospital wings and smacking bottles of inferior champagne on ships named after close relations. Claracks, on the other hand, don't consider station or lineage when marrying - or in my son's case - reproducing. We want spouses who are intelligent, forthright and dedicated to preserving the Isles. My own husband had been a school teacher born in here in Airésaig but had moved to Glasgow as a child. He'd returned to Airésaig when his wife had died, because he'd wanted a better life for his son."

Eggsy nods, "His son is Merlin, I mean Christie." 

"Yes, and we were raised together, no difference in education, in discipline, in training. He had been - and still is - my equal in every way." His mother's tone is mild, but Sebastian can hear the steel in her words and wants to cheer.

Eggsy looks at him and Sebastian takes his hand, brushing his thumb across Eggsy's knuckles. "This is who we are, Eggsy Unwin. We are the Clarack Isles, not because we rule, but because we have the blood of the people in our veins." 

The queen smiles at Sebastian's show of affection. "Eggsy, I know you'd been only asking about the dog, but I thought it would be a good object lesson about who we really are." His mother pauses and give Sebastian, and then Eggsy a determined look. "My son is a man of strong feelings and a determined heart. I don't think you are all that different."

"Thank you, ma'am. I'm honored by the comparison."

Sebastian is equally honored - to be considered in the same class of character as Eggsy is almost beyond comprehension.

His mother isn't done. "I've spent much of the past few days talking to people about you, Eggsy. Lord Hart is not your only advocate. My brother, Christie, things the sun rises and sets on you."

Eggsy makes a choked sound.

"I've also spent quite a few hours speaking with Crown Princess Tilde. She calls you a man of great soul, filled with compassion for all of the foibles of human nature. Your loyalty is unquestionable, even to your own personal detriment; something that both Christie and Lord Hart could not stress enough."

Eggsy looks as if he's about to say something, but he closes his mouth and his posture becomes ramrod straight.

"Tilde might not regret ending her relationship with you, but I know she deeply regrets the manner in which she ended it."

Sebastian can't help himself. "She's a fucking idiot, but her loss is my gain." He picks up Eggsy's hand and kisses it.

His mother smiles again, and Sebastian is reminded of a cat who had just caught a mouse.

"I know you and my son barely know each other - at least in the conventional sense - although I gather, from the state of your unmade bed, that you've gotten to know each other quite well, physically." 

Sebastian can't quite believe his mother. First to comment about her dog, now this. "Mother, please - you're embarrassing Eggsy."

She doesn't take her eyes off of Eggsy. "Am I? Or are you pleased that I know you've had sex with my son?"

Eggsy pulls his hand free and stands up. Sebastian's heart sinks.

"I came here because His Highness wished to know more about me - about the man who'd save your lives. We found - " Eggsy pauses, searching for the right words, "something more than that. Something more than victim and rescuer. It's not something for you to dissect and crow over. And while I understand what you need from me, that has nothing to do with what I feel for Sebastian." Eggsy looks from his mother to Lord Hart, and then to Sebastian. "Prince or man, what I feel for him and about him is something private, something a gentleman would never air, no matter how exalted the interrogator."

"You love him?"

Sebastian holds his breath on Eggsy's answer.

"Ma'am, since you seem to appreciate plain speaking, I will say this. It is none of your fucking business."

Sebastian wants to cheer. He loves his mother, but she can be a force of nature that few outsiders can withstand.

"Sit down, Mr. Unwin. Or should I call you Sir Gary?"

Eggsy looks betrayed as a turns to Lord Hart. "You told her?"

Hart shrugs, "It seemed like something Her Majesty ought to know, that you had been knighted for your actions on V-Day. And that you've also been awarded the George Cross."

"But why?"

Sebastian doesn't quite understand Eggsy's dismay. But at least he's seated and not going anywhere.

"Because, Mr. Unwin - since that is what you prefer - I have a vested interest in knowing everything about anyone who'll be joining my family. Just like any other mother.

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

Eggsy feels like he's trapped in a fun house. First the bizarre conversation about the dogs, which seemed to happen only because the queen wanted to drive home the point that she doesn't care about his origins. Then her highly unsubtle way of telling them that she knows he and her son had sex, although Eggsy himself wouldn't draw that conclusion just because his bed hadn't been slept in. He has to figure that Her Majesty had some servant reporting to her on the state of her son's sheets in the interval between the the time they'd left the nursery and the time they'd arrived in the morning room.

Which is all kinds of fucking creepy, but that's royalty for you.

And Harry, who's clearly having a blast in his role as the lordly advisor and confidante, just sits there and doesn't say a word. It's like Harry's thrown him to the wolves, but there's also the occasional look of concern that comes his way.

Sebastian is mostly normal, and Eggsy doesn't mind the overt affection. It's the opposite of what he'd experienced with Tilde, who'd treated him with icy courtesy when they were with her family. No, Eggsy doesn't want to think about Tilde, or about her alleged regrets. That's been over for a long time and he's sick and tired of bleeding out over it.

But the weirdest thing of all is the whole 'welcome to the family' thing. Why in the world would Her Majesty think that he's going to marry her son? They barely know each other, Eggsy's a spy, Sebastian's a prince - okay, a very nerdy prince who is gorgeous and funny and yeah, Eggsy could definite see himself giving up the life of a spy for a man like this, but that ain't happening. Sebastian's going to find out soon enough that Eggsy Unwin ain't worth the time of day, and Galahad's a spy who is addicted to danger and can't be trusted.

"Eggsy?" Harry's peering at him like a butterfly under a microscope. 

"What?"

"Are you all right, my boy?"

Eggsy knows it's a breach of protocol, but he needs some air. "Your Majesty, Your Highness, if you will excuse me for a moment."

Without waiting to hear what either royal has to say, Eggsy gets to his feet and walks out. He's halfway down the hall, hopefully heading to an exit, when he hears footsteps behind him. Familiar ones, comforting ones. 

Harry's footsteps.

"Eggsy, please stop."

Eggsy, too accustomed to obeying Harry's orders - good and bad - stops and leans against a window. When Harry catches up, Eggsy apologizes. "Sorry about that, sorry about the discourtesy. I know a gentleman doesn't do shit like that, but I didn't want to lose it in there, either. Sorry."

"My dear boy, I'm not surprised you'd bolted. Her Majesty was a bit overwhelming. She sees you as a way out of a bad situation and had been a little over-zealous in pursuit of her goals. While she certain sees your best qualities, she doesn't see _you_ , the person you really are."

Harry rests a heavy hand on Eggsy's shoulder, drawing him into a tight hug. Eggsy breathes deeply, relaxing into the familiar scents of bergamot, fine wool, and starched cotton. "It's crazy, ain't it? That she thinks her son will want to marry me." 

"Not so crazy, Eggsy." The softly spoken words aren't Harry's. Sebastian's chased after him, too. "I know we barely know each other, but my mum isn't as crazy as ye think she is. Or maybe she is, just for different reasons."

Eggsy breaks out of Harry's gentle hold and faces Sebastian. "Believe me, when you get to know me, you're going to change your mind real fast."

But Sebastian isn't accepting Eggsy's words. "Ye think yer some badass spy who's going to break my heart or embarrass me or I'm going to regret ever knowing. No, no - ye don't get to think those things about yerself. I might be a bit strange, but I know people and I know yer a good and kind man and that we - together - could be something right awesome. But only if ye give us a chance."

Harry steps away, outside of Eggsy's field of vision, and it's as if his friend and mentor has dropped out of existence. All Eggsy can see are Sebastian's bright blue eyes, the full lips that had kissed him so passionately last night, the sharp planes of a face that isn't conventionally handsome, but at the same time, as pretty as an angel on a cathedral window.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Just give me a chance. Let me get to know you, and you can get to know me."

"There isn't much to know about me, love. I'm a spy, I do terrible things for the greater good."

"Nae, ye're more that that. That's only yer job, it's not who ye are as a person."

Eggsy remembers something Harry had said to him after his breakup with Tilde, that unless he had someone in his life who mattered, he'd start losing bits and pieces of himself. At the time, Eggsy had told Harry that he had him, that Harry was the best thing in his life and make his life worth living. Oh, not in such flowery words, but that had been the drift. Harry had smiled and thanked him and let the subject drop and Eggsy, frankly, had forgotten about it until now.

And now he finally knows what Harry means, that the human connection is important. Having friends and mates is all well and good, but love is paramount. He could so easily love this man and that terrifies Eggsy. What if he lost Sebastian like his mum lost his da? Or what if Sebastian walks away? It's it better to end this now, before the inevitable hurt starts.

"No, no, no - ye're not leaving me, Eggsy Unwin. Ye're not giving up on something wonderful, I won't let ye." Sebastian's grabbed his sleeve. "Don't ye want to be happy?"

Eggsy takes a deep breath - as if he's in a sniper nest and about to take the kill shot. "I would rather not be hurt, Sebastian. I've seen what love does when it goes sour or ends."

"I dinna think ye were such a coward, Eggsy. I thought ye were the bravest of men."

Eggsy smiles faintly and shakes his head. "I'm not, Your Highness. Not brave in the way it counts."

Sebastian looks so damn sad and that's breaking Eggsy's heart. "Ye won't give us a chance? Ye'd rather walk away because yer too afraid?"

Eggsy knows that he should put on a smile and tell Sebastian that it's all right, that he wants this to work. There's a monarch who needs his compliance because her country can't really afford to tear apart a centuries' old alliance. His obedience is the thin end of the wedge, this could be just another assignment. Harry would be proud, Merlin would be grateful. Roxy would laugh her knickers off and beg to be his best woman. And Eggsy just might be happy with living a lie, it would be easier. 

But he's never taken the easy route, and while he can see a future that shines bright, if he's just willing to take the risk, he's so damn afraid of what comes after the happily ever after. "Tell me the truth, Sebastian."

"Always." Sebastian's still gripping his arm, his hand like a manacle.

"You want me? And not because a public relationship with the hero who saved you and your mum is good PR? Not because it's a way to fix things with England?"

"I couldna give a shite about England. I want ye, want to wake up next to ye every morning for the rest of my life. Want to raise my girls with ye, want ye by my side when the day that I dread inevitably comes. If I could, I'd run off with ye, be yer love and forget the rest of the world, but I can't. The best I can offer is my heart and my home and my family."

Eggsy closes his eyes and just breaths. Sebastian's words are a soothing balm on his wounded soul. "I don't know if I can say yes. But I don't know if I can leave, either."

"Give me a year and a day to prove my worth. That's what's in all the best fairy tales - the hero has to complete his quest in no more than one year and one day. Can ye give me that"

Startled by the non sequitur, Eggsy opens his eyes and says cautiously, "And what will happen during this year and one day?"

"I get to show ye that we will be good for each other, that what we have is more than hero-worship, more than political expedience. More than just a moment. That we have a future together."

"And after the year and a day is over, what happens?" Eggsy holds his breath.

"I'll ask ye to marry me. And if I haven't fulfilled my quest, ye can walk away and our story will end. But if ye can be honest with yerself, if ye can trust me with yer heart, we can have our happily ever after." 

Sebastian drops to his knees, ignoring Eggsy's pleas to get up. "I know how quick this is, but I want this for us and this is the only way I can show ye how sincere I am. I'm not a prince right now, I'm just a man who looks at ye and sees someone so worthy of love, someone who makes me happy, who brings me joy. I'm begging ye, give us a chance."

Eggsy pulls Sebastian to his feet and pulls him into his arms. He hopes he isn't setting himself up for a lifetime of pain and heartbreak, but he has to give this a chance. "A year and a day, no more, no less." 

Sebastian kisses him, sweetly, carefully, and says, "Aye, love. Thank ye for giving me a chance."

* * *


	9. Epilogue

Eggsy's standing by the window, overlooking the cathedral garden, when Harry asks, "How do you feel?"

"Doing all right, I think."

Harry hasn't left his side since this morning, overseeing every detail of Eggsy's grooming and attire. He'd fussed with the barber, with the manicurist, with the footman who'd been assigned to polish a new and completely non-lethal pair of handmade Oxfords. He'd even pulled out a needle and thread and re-sewn the buttons on Eggsy's jacket - the formal Number 1 Full Dress uniform of a Royal Marine made to order by Kingsman. Harry hadn't done the actual construction, and of course, had taken issue with how the jacket pulled against Eggsy's torso, and had to fix it right then and there. 

Of course, Eggsy has the right to wear this uniform. When he'd become a Kingsman, the department that oversees the creation and maintenance of cover identities had reactivated Eggsy's military service. As far as the world knows, Gary Unwin is a Captain in the Royal Marines, but the details of his service are kept very tightly under wraps.

Of course, if anyone actually gains access to Eggsy's personnel records, they would find fifteen years worth of highly classified missions in every major hotspot around the world, including the destruction of Richmond Valentine's base and the rescue of the hundreds of kidnapped royals and celebrities.

Some might argue - if they knew - that then-Lieutenant Gary Unwin deserved a Victoria Cross for his heroism that day, but the official story is that since his valor hadn't been part of any formal military action, the George Cross was the appropriate recognition. That no one could properly explain his presence on the base has never really been an issue - since no one actually knows _what_ happened that day. 

"You think? You aren't sure?"

Eggsy's been so accustomed to hiding his feelings that it's second nature to prevaricate. "No, I am sure. I'm feeling fine."

"Are you happy?"

Eggsy can answer that without equivocation. "Absolutely." The last two years have been the happiest of his life. Not every day has been fairy-tale perfect, but Eggsy's never had a moment's regret about giving Sebastian a chance to woo him.

And Sebastian had wooed him. Not with roses and champagne, but with a family and a country. Eggsy now knows more about sheep and whisky and fish than he'd ever thought he'd want to know, but the knowing makes him happy.

True to his promise, Sebastian had waited three hundred and sixty-six days before asking Eggsy to marry him. They's been overseeing the summer shearing, dirty and stinking from _so many sheep,_ and Sebastian had taken him to a secluded lake, high in the hills, to cool off. The water had been freezing, and Eggsy ran in, got clean, and ran right out again, complaining about his bits freezing off.

But he hadn't complained about the setting or the company. Eggsy had been hoping that Sebastian was as well aware of the day as he was.

Sebastian had spent far too much time in the lake, and when he finally came out, slowly sauntering naked from the water like he was dressed for receiving dignitaries, he had given Eggsy an eyeful, cold-shrunken bits and all. But the air had been warm, the sky endlessly blue, and Sebastian had brought a blanket for them to stretch out on.

Arms folded behind his head, utterly comfortable in his skin - especially the bits that are brushing up against Sebastian's - Eggsy had felt like one of the drifting clouds. He'd been about to comment about their sheep-shapedness when Sebastian asks, "Will ye marry me, Eggsy, or are ye going to walk away?"

Eggsy had turned his head and got lost in Sebastian's gaze, so much bluer and purer than the sky above. "Of course I'll marry you."

"Good. Glad that's settled." And that had been that.

Of course, Sebastian being who he is - a handsome young prince and the first royal in Europe to marry another man - made wedding planning that much more complicated. In between sheep-shearing and whisky making and learning how to gut a fish, the engaged couple had gone on a bit of a year-long good will tour through Northern Europe, meeting with members of the British diplomatic corps about reopening channels.

Today's wedding, with all of its pomp and solemn glamour, will be the first time a British diplomat will be officially received by the Claracks since the attack in London. 

In the distance, Eggsy hears the skirl of bagpipes and the rat-a-tat-tat of the drummers. Her Majesty must be arriving, walking down from the palace, trailed by hundreds of ranking guests in some kind of formation that Eggsy doesn't want to bother to figure out. His mother and sister are already in the cathedral. Daisy is the ring-bearer and Gemma and Emily will be tossing flower petals. Sebastian had charmed Eggsy's sister, offering to make her a princess, too. But Daisy, now eleven and extraordinary independent, had declined the honor, telling Sebastian she'd rather learn to play the pipes.

Michelle had been only slightly horrified, knowing her daughter all too well.

"Almost time, Eggsy." Harry's right behind him and for a moment, Eggsy's back to that moment almost a dozen years ago, when he'd shown up in the tailor shop, bruised and scared but willing to take a leap into the unknown. Harry had stood right behind him then, too.

"I'm going to miss you, Haz."

Harry smiles at the beloved (and despised) nickname. "I'll miss you, too, Eggsy. But I'm just a phone call away."

"And it's not like you and your new husband aren't going to come visit, your sister-in-law is delighted that her brother is now married to her favorite tailor."

Harry blushes just a bit. "Yes, well, there's that. And it's not like I'm going to allow just anyone to make _your_ suits, either."

The pipes are getting louder and Eggsy recognizes the tune, it's the national anthem. There's a tap on the door and Harry goes to answer. Eggsy doesn't turn around, but he recognizes Roxy's voice telling Harry that everyone's ready and Sebastian's waiting. 

And of course his best friend makes a terrible joke about being willing to help him run if he's having second thoughts. 

Harry shoos her out and closes the door behind her. "All kidding aside, are you sure?"

"I've never been as sure of anything as I am about this."

Harry smiles. "I am so proud of you, Eggsy."

"Thank you, Harry. I wouldn't be here without you and your belief in me." Eggsy does the unthinkable and wraps his arms around Harry, completely disregarding the state of their formalwear.

Of course, that means Harry has to get out the brush and remove every invisible speck that might have transferred between them. "Ready?"

"Absolutely."

Harry opens the door and lets Eggsy step out. The Airésaig cathedral isn't vast, but it's old and the stone walls hold their chill, even in the summertime, which feels good against Eggsy's heated skin. Someone must have let the pipers know that the Prince's intended is on his way, because the music starts again, something slow and stately - as stately as a pipe corps can be when they aren't playing for a funeral.

Eggsy's practiced this a few too many times to get it wrong, but he's still nervous. Gemma and Emily are waiting for him with their flower baskets filled with rose petals. Daisy has a pillow to carry the rings, and she'll follow. 

Although Michelle is present and has a place of honor as his mother, she's not walking him up the aisle. Harry has that honor. Merlin's up at the altar, wearing full Highland regalia, standing next to his nephew.

The music changes again and Eggsy fights against a smile. He'd jokingly asked if the pipers could play "Your Song" as he walked up the aisle, since the lyrics so perfectly encapsulated his feelings for Sebastian. That had been six months ago and he hadn't given it another thought, but it seems that his husband definitely had thought about it, and worked a little magic.

Eggsy blinks to banish the happy tears and starts moving forward. Sebastian is waiting for him, as resplendent as a Renaissance prince.

The minister begins the service, but Eggsy doesn't hear a word. He's lost forever in his husband's smile.

_FIN_

**Author's Note:**

> If the creator of the original Prince Kit/Eggsy post on Tumblr sees this, please let me know so I can give proper credit.


End file.
